


The Receivers

by ImmigrantPhenomenon



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, The Giver (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Crossdressing, Crossover, Death, Dystopia, Eventual Smut, Fear, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Heavy Angst, M/M, Memories, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Possible Character Death, Recovered Memories, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-05-05 22:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14628549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmigrantPhenomenon/pseuds/ImmigrantPhenomenon
Summary: Alex and John lived with all the others, like all the others, just as before and for forever. Everything was the same for everyone, and you were obedient or you were released to elsewhere. The Giver collected all knowledge and passed it on to the Receiver when said person is chosen. Then they would advise the elders, just as planned.Knowledge and Memory were powerful things. The last three Receivers couldn't handle it. Now the Elders are finally deciding to take action.This year, there are two.





	1. Then There Were Two

“What's wrong, Alexander?”

He didn't know. He was… Anxious. Yes, that was precise enough. Why would John ask such a question? It was quite rhetorical in a sense, and the reason for asking seemed more for comfort. Except, Alex could not see how comfort would be involved in such a situation. They were to be given jobs today, the same things they were to have the rest of their lives. Did it not demand anxiety from John? How was he so accepting to his fate, being fed to him with biodegradable silver spoons, eating it as the salmon they always consumed.

“I am just anxious. That's all.” Alex watched, becoming more pleased at the sight of his best friend. He also began to look less put together.

“Me too.” He whispered, voice unusually small. The Twelves unlatched their bikes from the pedestal, kicking one leg over the side, kicking off. Their clothes billowed with the speed of their kick, the matching pristine whiteness of both their shirts and pants unable to get dirty. For there was no dirt to mess it up.

They were not aware of what dirt even was, let alone what it could be doing to them. A distant thought. Not even a thought, just knowledge that only one person has.

Alexander looked up. He liked watching the trees. Most people threw around the round ball, playing what they liked to call War, but they knew nothing of its reality. Neither did Alexander, of course, but something about it just never sat right with him. So instead he sat by himself, the pale white light of the sun shines through the grey of the trees, locking over him with an intricate pattern of leaves. That was until John appeared at his left one day, sitting down beside him, with no ask and no invitation. Others would have found it rude. Alex found it refreshing.

Most people adored the sameness. Easy to remember, easy to say, easy to practice every day, but Alex was quite the difference. He too liked it in some ways, but sometimes the repetitions we're painful, making him want to sit in silence forever if he could. Ah, but that he could not, for he had an assignment today. Today he would be chosen, though he did not feel anything was the right choice.

His friend Eliza, would be a birth mother. Most would think her to be a nurturer, but Alex knew her better. She had the strength to go through the labor again, and again, and she had the certain gentleness to care for the child immediately after it's birth, much unlike so many others. Of course this would only happen in a few years. Angelica would enter the Law and Justice for obvious reasons, he thought. Most people agreed. Peggy would be a pilot. Cautious, yes. Adventurous, absolutely.

He knew of a boy named Hercules whomed John was well acquainted, he would be an Instructor. He had a small knack for youngers, even with his… anxiety inducing dememor. And John. He could, and would, speak for all… but not for John. He could never seem to grasp at the perfect job for them, he was good enough for all positions. Just when Alex thinks he has the boy figured out, he turns around and does something that changes his entire perspective.

Well, if they had multiple perspectives, it would've.

They only saw everything one way. But Alex and John had always been different. Most people wouldn't have seen it until now, but once it's announced, it will become remarkably clear.

They continued down the perfect path, behind and in front of perfect buildings on perfect lawns in the perfect day. They reached the center, after a relatively shorter departure, digging their heels to slow. Multiple others, including family units, piled through the door, every single person ready for what was to come. All except for the two boys, on with curls bouncing over his shoulders and the other with hair as straight as a board, two complete opposites on one spectrum, but completely the same on the other. Right now, nobody could care for the difference. Right now, they were piles of anxiety bounding through the doors in perfect order because that's how they were raised. To be obedient, but these two would be anything but.

Away from their families, columns of chairs separated everyone. Year Threes, Fours, Sevens, Eights, Nines, Tens, and Elevens piled around each other in the center most space, the largest of the smaller-end-down  trapezoid seating arrangements, the left hold Twelves and the right holding everyone else.

Alexander and John found there places, tucking in their seats one after the other. John began to bounce his leg in repeated motions, something Alex didn't understand. But his too began.

They allowed others to file past and to their own seats, moving robotically like it was hardwired into their brains, and it kind of was. The youngers sat atop, the older getting lower, John and Alex almost seeing over everyone. When the ceremony began, his heart began racing with an unknown feeling. Anxiety, he reminded himself, he did know this feeling. He knew of all his feelings.

“My apologies for being unable to attend this year.”

“Your apology is accepted.” They chanted, synchronized voice filling the room, then deflating faster than an instant.

“We shall begin the ceremony with the Ones. Please, step them forward.” Nurtures flooded onto the steps, two lines of dull grey, carrying the white silicone cradles that held said years.

Alex would've thought this to be the longest part if he hadn't know what was to come. The younglings we're assigned names, then families, those stepping forward at the name of the male parent, though the female being the one to come readily forth and accept the child.

The holographic form never wavered, staying just as perfect as the community, George's face and white hair pulling them from their dazes. He began to pat his thigh with one hand, others following in a half applaud. John and Alex copied with quivering hands.

This continue for the Thirds, Sevens, and Eights, each receiving their own special gifts for evolving this far. It wasn't until Nines when he finally smiled, watching the youngest female of his family receive her gift, along with Peggy. Maria looked back at him nervously, waiting for his smile to tell her to continue.

They were taught to smile at doubt, smile at others, and smile at anxiety. So he smiled, wondering briefly if he could do something more to show his pride. He shut it down quickly. You smile, be obedient, and merely smile.

Maria sat back down empty handed, the bike would show at their keep when they arrived back at their dwelling.

He found John's hand stuttering when they called down the Twelves, scrunching his eyebrows. Everyone had a place, he knew, he just didn't know what theirs would be. He watched John's hand dramatically flip around over his knee, keeping himself from reaching out and stopping it. Not to be rude, but just so John wouldn't be feeling like this. But he was not allowed to touch those outside his family unit.

They travelled up, number order, Alex in front of John with ninety-seven, John tight behind at ninety-eight. This was how they first bonded, being so close in number was like finding the perfect match, even if you were obvious opposites.

It started out fine, like most things do, but it went downhill rather quickly.

“Number One.” The Chief Elder’s hologram called, Alex only knowing his name from the female parent of the house. He missed the name, but heard him distinctively smile, “Birth Mother.” The white-dressed girl accepting her role and returning to their seats. This repeated with perfection, no problems, knocking his brain back into action when Hercules was called up.

“Number sixty-nine.” There was a pause, “Hercules… Instructor.” He noted how the claps started hesitantly, only proving. Alex's point. Most found him… intimidating. They continued, Alex’s blood pulsing faster and rushing through his ears in a way that reminded him of the water faucet spraying.

“Number ninety-six.” Alex almost lose his mind, trying to keep from bouncing on the balls of his feet. That would not be very polite. He couldn’t hear who was just standing next to him, or who was now walking away, or what the girl was chosen to be, he could only hold his breath until-

“Number ninety-nine.”

He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out in surprise, face staying surprisingly neutral. Yelling in _not_ polite. He and John turned to face each other, seeing water accumulate in the latter’s eyes. He wanted to brush it away, for some odd reason, never having seen his friend when he was feeling dissatisfied. But this was different, and he knew it too. This was like anxiety _and_ dissatisfaction mixing together, something he did not understand. Something that was making his head throb with knowledge, he remembered them calling it, throbbing because he was trying to learn too much, but he _wanted to know-_

“I am sure, you are already aware of what is happening. And I assume you still think I have made a mistake.” George spoke, voice low from the hologram. Alex had always felt dissatisfied with him, though he didn’t understand why. He never told anyone but John, for even he had scolded him, _that was not polite_. “But I can assure you this is not.”

Both heads shot up, the room still a light mix of grey and white, suddenly seeming darker.

“These will be our new Receivers of Memories.” A collective murmur started, but was quickly hushed on it’s own. “We are aware of the risk, for dissatisfaction of the last three Receivers. But this is exactly the reason we will have _two_.”

The applause started too quickly for them, hearts racing each other to see which one would pound out first, startling them faster than they could bear. John’s hands twitched at his sides, Alex knowing he wanted to cover his ears from the sound, but not allowing himself such a rude gesture.

Alex on the other hand turned, facing the crowd. He was his parents, George and Martha, clapping with bare faces. He could not tell how they were feeling, unsure of how _that_ was making him feel. He turned to Maria, clapping on her lap all too vigorously. The youngers were not allowed to know of the Giver or the Receiver- Receiver _s_ \- because they were a mystery. Mystery was a such a weird word on Alex’s tongue, it really didn’t feel to belong. The word was anxious to them, and that is not something they wanted them to feel. The adults were not even supposed to know, the only reason being the loss of three consecutively. When something large happens, the people tend to figure it out.

And now, they were caught in the middle. John made a noise Alex couldn’t hear, drowning in the small chant of their names. Switching from Alex to John quickly, subtly, and with such ease it appeared practiced, even if it was most certainly not. He could tell by the dissatisfaction on their faces.

They were ushered back to their seats for the end of the ceremony, short, but way too long. John could feel side glances and the gazes of those above them prying. It was not nice.

When it ended, their day had been taken and they were left to stare at each other, ride home side by side, reaching their dwellings, one right next to the other. They said nothing to each other.

Jobs started tomorrow, Alex was sure John would have plenty to say then.

Still, he felt wrong.

Alex entered his dwelling, pausing briefly for his nightly injections. It made him feel calm. He was sure that was the word, making his mind blank out the troubles he was feeling. Maria and his parents were already at the table, waiting for him with trays open, smiling when he joined them.

“Feelings, Alexander?” Martha’s sweet voice echoed from every other night.

“I’m… scared.” Yes, he has heard that word before, but he is not allowed to say from where. He was proud of the use, but Martha looked quite scandalized. She stuttered before regaining herself,

“Precision of Language, Alexander” He sighed,

“Dissatisfied. Anxious.”

“Alexander, you do not list two.”

“But-”

“Alexander.” George pulled his attention, forcing him to bow his head, another feeling making his cheeks warm.

“I apologize.”

“You’re apology is accepted.” They all habitually muttered. Even Maria, but hers was enthusiastic. Hers was real.

“What…” He paused, waiting for any objections- if there would be. “Does the Receiver do?”

George chuckled, “He receives memories, of course.”

Alex decided to bite his tongue, knowing nothing better would come from the situation.

When the meal was finished he happily trudged to his room, changing into his grey pajamas and picking up his hair brush. He easily shifted through his, gazing absently out the window, seeing John struggle through his curls. If he could touch other outside his unit, that would help John. He would be able to brush behind for him, instead of struggling through it himself. That’s what friends were for, right?


	2. Remembering and Rules

Alex tweaked with the hem of his new clothes. They were nice, he believe was the word, a little more was added to them. Most times it was an upper garment and a lower, plus your under, but today there were _two_ upper garments. One shirt had so many little buttons, he couldn’t understand why anyone would possibly want to use it, taking so much time from his day just to put it on. But then you cover it with a shirt that doesn’t even have sleeves, like the dress of a girl, covering all the buttons he worked to close. But it was warm, he noted, maybe the Giver’s dwelling was cold.

His pants were like normal, but they appeared black, to match the shirt, his vest bright white. He brushed the knots from his hair, straightening his outfit before opening the sliding door, coming out spiffer than he had walked in. Today he was rested, no more volunteering, now it was just work. Just… whatever he would have to do as a receiver.

“Merry Morning, Alexander.” Martha called, placing a bowl of apples on the table behind the living room couch.

“Merry Morning.” He repeated, already dulled by the day’s beginning. It was exactly the same. Maybe he had assumed it would feel different, people would treat him differently. And he _wanted it_ . Maybe. He still needed to learn what _want_ was.

Martha turned to face him, pausing for a moment, then letting a grin split her face. “Don't you look nice?” She prided, beaming at the younger.

Alex smiled back, maybe this wouldn't be such a bad day. “Thank you.” He stole an apple from the bowl, no longer bothering to grab the bag in his room for classes. It felt weird, made his back feel free, empty.

He was about to line his arm over the dispenser for his morning injections, deciding that he still wanted that bag on his back. Maybe his mind was just trying to make this more familiar to him, bounding back up the stairs to close his hand around the empty cloth, tossing it over his back anyway.

He sliced his hand over the dispenser, waiting for it to beep before sliding out the door, hopping onto the larger cycle of the two on the left. He unclicked it, and paused.

Three- two- one…

John bounded from his house, hair a little messy, but otherwise just as he’s used to. His clothes put Alex off the most, a matching black set to his own, the white blaring. John popped on his bike without wasting a second. Alex’s mind clicked. Normally John waited for him, or vice versa like today, but they’ve never gone without the other.

He hissed. Something _ached_. He brought a hand to his head, a small pain bubbling. It made no sense. The sensor said he was fine, nothing needed a check-up, no additional medication was added to his normal dosage. Why was this… painful?

He shook his head, stepping on the pedals.

Catching up to John easy, he slowed his pace, “Hello, John!”

“... Alex.” He paused,

“John?” He heard a hum, drowned by the constant buzz of the pedals. “Feelings.”

“I am not sure.” John paused. “It is a feeling I don't know how to put in words.” Alex chewed at his lip. He possibly knows a word that would satisfy him… but Lafayette’s voice still rang through his mind.

_If I tell you this, you cannot tell anyone else. Nobody can know, they wouldn't understand._

“Scared?” He pushed the thought away. “Are you having the scared feeling?”

“Alex…” John warned, pausing to stare at the road before them. He turned to Alex. “Precision of language. I do not… I can't… I don't know!” He shouted suddenly, making Alex jump. He almost fell off the bike, stumbling to stare back at him. “Oh, Alex! I’m sorry! I apologize!”

Alex giggled, “You're apology is accepted, as always.” He kicked his foot again, plowing up dust of dark grey.

They had ventured to the end of their small community, down to the place where the sidewalks were untouched by the Landscape Workers, the grass grew wild, sometimes twisting with something that reminded Alex of being breathed on when John would get close to his face, smile bright and laughing. The road was choppy, bumpy and bruised, but once again, it was something Alex found refreshing.

He didn't like how similar all the dwelling streets were, how nothing could be seen. He felt trapped there, he knew he shouldn't, but… he shouldn't even know what that word means, if he was being completely honest with himself, he shouldn't be able to understand outside the range his instructor gave him.

But he does.

And it was slowly being taken from him. He knew it. With every injection, those small bits of knowledge of what the world used to be like disappeared, until he was nothing but the obedient servant he was designed to be.

He tried to wipe the thoughts from his mind, but the twisting ways and the not-so-cut grass kept them fresh. Coming to the edge with John, seeing who could get the closest…

Meeting a tall boy, eye's a soft silvery white like his own. Hair black, so dark the sun never shone on it, clothes just as his own.

There was also something about his voice, he had told Alex at some point before but he couldn't recall the word he had used. Access? Accurate? Acc…? Cent? Accent, maybe. He wished he could remember.

“You’re trying too hard.”

“What?” Alex paused, turning around. They'd come up to a small white building, the outside rough, meaning nothing to the eons of knowledge it held.

“To cover up what you know. What _we_ know.”

Alex understood.

“Precision of language.” He said anyway, tossing his bike to the grass, having no where else to store it. Bag slung over his shoulder, he waited for John who repeated his process. John didn’t correct himself, instead focusing on the dusty, old, breaking doorway. It was the first time he's seen it during the day. And in daylight, at that.

“It is unclear what we are supposed to be doing.” Alex stated, looking past the wall. He found an opening at the end closest to him, leading down a hallway. There was a door, not at the end, but on the end’s side, going to the right, attached to the body off the building.

“Should we just…” John made a nervous motion, indicating down the hallway. Alex watched him take a hesitant step, suddenly filled with unease. They were trained to stay far from this place, drilled to the bone to be hesitant if you are unsure, because they will teach them all we need to know. John normally wasn't so straight forward like this… it was almost like…

“I going to go all the way.” John sighed, looking unfazed by the uncertainty.

“Me too.” Alex decided, not wanted to stay alone.

They tracked down the broken path, shoes echoing off the bare walls in the enclosed space. It made him jump at first, wary, and not used to such a loud sound.

They were quick to jog to the end, pulling open the door without resistance, easing it.

To say, simply, it was much nicer on the inside.

A small balcony reached them upon entering, connected to a spiral of a staircase, so unfamiliar, Alex didn't know what to think. The space at the bottom was wide, the ground a dark grey, followed at the end, by a window. It took over the entire wall, the sill white. Alex also noticed shelves covered, top to bottom, with books. Like his instruction or rule books, they were similar in components, but they were all different shapes and sizes and ranged from white to grey to black in such variation it was almost dizzying. He tumbled into John, who'd stopped walking, gazing at the palace.

“I apologize.” John whispered, referring to Alex's hand on his head, where he'd hit John.

“Do _not_ apologize in here.” A voice thundered from a chair. It was right beside one of the vast shelves, both unsure of how they missed him.

They jumped, letting out gasps of fear, suddenly clutching each other.

Alex pushed away frantically, _Do not touch those outside your family unit!_ “I apologize!” He cried, pausing before looking back at the greying man, “Sorry! I mean-”

The man chuckled, pulling up from chair. “It is quite alright, but please, calm yourself.”

John glanced around nervously, recalling of times before, when the last receiver was here. Apparently the room hadn't changed too vastly since last time.

“I am Alexander-” he began, descending the stairs behind John.

“I am quite aware, Alexander, and this is John, correct.” He smiled at the stiff nod, John's lip tucked between his teeth.

“What should we call you?” Alex started, shocked by John's silence. To some, it would be considered rude to not ask for a name. John normally wasn't this conserved.

“I guess you could call me… the Giver.”

Another memory sparked each of their minds, pulling out the image of a tall boy, black curly hair, darker skin than they…

They shook it away. He was lost, there was no looking back.

The Giver smiled at them, before turning to John. “You are not taking you're morning injections.”

His eyes went wide, Alex's following. _What? How is one capable of doing such a thing?_ He turned to him, mouth falling open in shook. John began stuttering, shaking with the effort of not breaking down them.

“I-I-I-” Tears boiled behind his eyes, not letting them fall. Something pinged in his chest, keeping him from doing such a childish thing.

“John!” Alex gasped, eyebrows scrunching. He was about to get closer, ask him his feeling or just ask him anything at all. None of it made sense. He opened his mouth, only to be cut off by the Giver’s raised hand.

“No, it is quite alright. In fact, I would like you to start doing the same.” John's face heated as Alex succeeded to a similar mess of incoherent noises. Alex looked ready to vomit, hands grabbing at his head like it would fall off. He looked to the man, “No questions… yet.” Being cut off for the second time that day, “There are still rules I would like you to understand before you go home.”

He pulled them to the chair, sitting in it. Alex and John easily situated themselves at his feet, so close, but never close enough. The Giver seemed to notice this, smiling with ease.

“This first thing I would like you to know is, you may touch each other.” Both boys looked surprised by the rule. _Was it okay to counter a rule in the book of rules?_

Alex, mind having trouble processing everything, stayed still, slow and sluggish in his responses. John on the other hand, fell with a sigh, head hitting Alex's shoulder.

His stiffened. It was weird, having a weight that was never there before, the curls of his hair tickling his cheek, feeling the steady pulse of John's body. He almost wanted to push him away, take back the empty space when he realized… he didn't want to.

He _enjoyed_ the feeling, the weight that's never been there before, the unbenounced tickle of his hair. And he really enjoyed feeling his beating heart. The old man smiled, white beard bending with it.

“Second. You are to go directly home afterwards.” This was fine. They did that everyday anyway. After getting their jobs, they would no longer need to volunteer, so staying out wasn't a problem. “Third. You may ask anything. Rudeness aside.”

Both boys gaped… being rude was _everything_. You are not allowed to be rude, what would people think of it? Alex pressed that one to the back of his mind.

The only thing that stayed constant was the steady beating of John's heart, reminding Alex for the strangest reasons, that he was slipping his daily dosages.

“Fourth. Do not discuss your training with anyone but each other.” Simple. The reason there were two was for that exact reason, right?

The curly haired boy sang through their minds again. _He had broken that rule._

“Fifth. No dream telling.” John choked over nothing, Alex finding it steadily confusing how he was able to do that. He too understood why though, dream telling was a big part of every routine in your unit, telling and analyzing. How would they explain not doing such a thing if they could not discuss their training… of course they were allowed to be rude… but does that have anything to do with not telling?

“Sixth, you may not apply for medication. Seventh you may not apply for release.” Those seemed simple, _at the time._ Why would anyone want to apply for release? It was a dissatisfying thought, making his body shiver. And he was not sick, so he wouldn't need medication.

There was a long pause, in which John raised his hand. Then put it back down, not knowing if he was even supposed to be polite anymore. “What are we supposed to say at dream telling-”

He was cut off, the Giver's voice suddenly low. It still swam with something, something he would later define as _mischief_ , but until then it was unnerving.

“Eight.” A beat. Three of John's pounding heart, “You may lie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The building is from the movie, I know... Hell I don't even know how it's described in the book.
> 
> Please don't kill me


	3. Comfort, Colors and Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait- I... I'm not dead???

Alexander flipped through the pages of his book. He liked it. He wasn't sure if he should, or if it was supposed to be, but he enjoyed the weight of the book in his hands. And the things on the inside. He had no idea how many words there actually were, enough to fill an entire book, apparently, fatter than that of his instructions.

He sat on his bed, deciding to stick to the very first pages. It took him quite some time to realize they all started with the same letter. That's how the book was organized, by the letters in order from A-Z. He flipped through the pages, testing their weight on his fingers. So thin, the pages, much unlike his instructions which were thick to avoid rips. But these, so thin, yet there were still so many.

He also found that so many words meant the same thing. But there was something different about them, something he liked. It almost felt like these words were like the elders. Like ‘cold’ and ‘freeze,’ they mean the same, yes, but one of them is more powerful. He didn’t quite understand what cold meant either but the book helped, it sounded uncomfortable- yet he didn’t fear it.

“Alexander!” He heard Martha call, something speaking through his system. He had already skipped his afternoon injection and it was messing with him quite significantly. When he thought about his lesson he became heated in the face, for a reason unknown. It wasn’t  _ embarrassment _ (That word made more sense to him than simply stating he ‘forgot himself’) this time. Just like he was caught doing something considered against rules.

He slammed his book shut.  _ Adrenaline, that was another word _ ;  _ increasing blood flow and breathing _ is what he understood from the definition. He’s never felt  _ adrenaline  _ before.

“Please wash for dinner!” He tossed her a noise of agreement, stuffing the book and descending to eat.

…

“You must understand three things before we can start.”

John and Alex stood by the window, focusing on a spot just below the clouds. If you looked close enough it was almost as if…

They spun around, facing the Giver. John’s hand slowly crept over his arm, making Alex’s heart pick up speed.  _ Adrenaline? _ He made a small noise in his throat, wrapping his arm around John’s in a sudden burst of  _ something _ \- an urge, desperation to be close to the only other person who understands what he’s experiencing. John made a soft noise too, curls flinging with his head as it flushed to the side.

“One.” He shuffled closer, holding out a book. “This will be in your head, in a way. Like a thought.”

“A thought.” John echoed next to him.

“But you will be able to  _ see  _ it, and  _ feel  _ it.” Alex stiffened.

“Thoughts…” He started, still hesitant. Years of rules being bounded through his head keeping him reserved. “Are not that…  _ active _ .”

“That’s because these are not thoughts, per say-”

“But sir, you said…” John trailed, eyebrows furrowing.

“I said they were  _ like _ thoughts. But these are  _ memories _ .” The word whispered like a secret. It made Alex shiver… but he wasn’t disatisfied. “They are stronger. And you will not understand them at first but that it what I’m here for. To explain.”

John swallowed lightly, whimpering. “Sir… sir I’m scared. I don’t understand what I am  _ feeling _ .”

And Alex’s heart jumped again. His lip quivered with thoughts, but it was so much easier to let them go.

His arms moved on their own accord, moving from John’s arm to his hip, slipping behind him until his other arm met the first, locking John’s body to his. This was an act of comfort between family. He hugged tighter, his head tucking into John’s shoulder, feeling the curly haired boy’s breath puff over his neck. Then arms, locking around his. It felt… different. And did Alex wish he could describe it. It was  _ good _ .

“Sir…” John began again, arms tightening. “These… feelings. They are not what we are taught… I want… I want to learn those first.”

The Giver smiled softly, “Emotions are increasingly difficult to take on, boys. Today, we start smaller.” He approached them, a hand on each boy’s shoulder. John whimpered. “Eventually, my dear boy, soon.”

“Soon.” John hiccuped.

“Two?” Alex whispered. The giver chuckled.

“Eager. You’re quite the spectacle.” Alex’s mind reeled, but he stayed silent, choosing just to hide his face in John’s neck. “Two then. You will never been forced to do something you don’t want to do.”

“Like if I do not to clap I would not have to?” John poked his head out from around Alex’s.

The giver laughed again, “Something like that, yes. I suppose it will make more sense when the memories get… stronger, but as of now…”

“Three.” Alex said with a smile.

“Three.” The Giver agreed. “I want you to talk about what you see. What you feel and what you hear. You won’t  _ have to _ but I advise you do.”

The boys nodded.

“Ready to begin?”

This nod was slower, shorter.

Slowly they disconnected from each other and opting to each reach out their arms. John and his matching marks on opposite arms bare to the world, the Giver positioning them a certain way. He pulled his shirt to reveal his own mark, the skin faded, the sudden realization hitting Alex that this is way they always need knew givers. He was to be released soon. The thought filled him with something  _ awful _ , tears pulling behind his eyes. He blinked them away.

“Eventually you will be able to share memories with each other, be it good or not.”  _ That _ , Alex did not understand. Quite yet.

Reaching an arm out, the older man closed his palm over Alex’s arm, a surge flowing through him, his hand automatically grabbing back.

He gasped. Wind fluttered around him, eyes shut tight and hidden from the battering breeze, his hair whipping around him- the hand around his arm gone. He choked on the breeze, arms yielding for anything at seemed remotely familiar, his hands clasping around a tree. It was fat, the bark scraping his hands in a welcomed feeling. It was better than wondering around in the dark. It was rough, running his hands up.

The wind stopped.

His eyes opened.

Another noise fell loosely with no restraint. It was nothing like anything he’d seen before. Massive trees towered over him so far the sky looked like it’d never reach him. The leaves were large and  _ wet _ , dripping with water and puddling over the gray ground. He giggled helplessly, touching it. Something shocking flew through his spine, eyes flinging open. It was  _ cold _ , the word placed itself in his mind. It was  _ wet _ and  _ cold _ and it was one his fingers and the leaves were soft and his heart was racing.

His eyes squeezed together with laughter, giggling once again. But when he opened them again, something was different.

There was an open path now, something glowing on the other side. His mind tumbled and he was rushing forward again, the wind racing in his ears.

Everything he’s ever understood began crumbling at the sight.

_ Red _ . A voice whispered, far away but so close.

A small plant, five leaf-like shapes disposing from a dark center but they weren’t gray. Or white. Or black. They were  _ red _ .

“It’s not… possible.” He whimpered, falling to his knees. The ground was cold, and his hands fell into it, something else being wet. When he picked his hands up again something black coated them.  _ Dirt _ .

He looked at his hands, feeling the texture and the  _ temperature _ , laughing mercilessly again. He pulled it up to his face, wiping it over his cheeks and his neck, tears lacing with his excitement, the dirt washing away with them. It was so much and so little, reaching out to touch the petals. The dirt messed up the color, covering the petals as he desperately tried to save it from brushing the dirt with his muddy hands to blowing hot breaths over it.

He watched the leaves bend with his air, being delicate with those leaves in fear of messing up the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Faster than a flash, the wind was back and his eyes slammed shut.

It twirled and spun him around, and the ground left and the dirt flung from his face until he was perfectly pristine again and his heart was racing and the petals were ripped from his fingers.

He he was back, staring at the Giver, then to John, something catching his eyes.

“John!” He cried, pointing to his hair, the slightest bit of redness tinting his curls, then he looked down further to find John’s cheeks also reviving with color, any skin showing having a touch of red. “John! John! This is so  _ amazing _ , look John, look at your hair!”

John’s eyes widened. “Alexander, your face!” He cried excitedly, “It- the gray- Alexander! This is  _ fantastic _ !”

The boys cried out, lunging forward and into their arms, the newly reddened skin mingling in their newfound color.

“What was that?!” John huffed, holding Alex’s hands in his owns. They were mesmerized by the flesh, now dusted darker with their clasped hands.

“Color.” The giver said calmly, “And there are so many more.”

“More?!” Alex whined, “Show me, please, show me now!” He cried, lunging for the older man, arms already outstretched, the only thing keeping him from getting to him being John’s tight grip around his middle.

He didn’t dare calm down before John pointed at the bookshelf. “Alexander- Alexander!” He let Alex fall, hitting the floor with a thump and a laugh, racing up the stairs and jumping to a shelf. He pulled down one of the many books, racing to Alex and tossing it to him, the cover a dark red, no longer faint like their skin. It looked as if it sucked in all the color from the surrounding books and locked it between its pages, the cover absolutely glowing.

No time was wasted, hunting out the different objects that held the only color they could see. First an apple, then a pen, whose words were laced with the color when it wrote.

The two ran until they were too exhausted to think any longer, settling in the Giver’s large chair, wrapped around each other.

That’s when Alex realized he was cold. And John was warm.

“Cold.” Alex said softly to John. “Water is cold, and the ground is cold.”

John’s eyes widened in realization. “But Alexander is not cold.” John pulled Alex further over him, letting their stomachs touch as their ruffled shirts rose up. “Alexander is warm. And  _ soft _ .”

_ The flower was soft too,  _ Alex thought, maybe John was like a flower.

“You are soft too, John.” Alex whispered and giggled. “You are a human like a flower.”

“Flower.” John mused, “That is the word.”

“I saw it in the book of words.”

“Dictionary.” John corrected, reaching into his bag. He pulled out the book handing it to Alex who situated himself so him and John were facing the same direction.

The Giver appeared behind them, and sat on the floor before them. “I would like you to look up the word comfort.” Alex flipped to the ‘C’s, easily finding the word like he’s already the master of this book. “Read it for me.”

“A state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint.” Alex said softly.

“Today,” The man whispered, “I had you feel multiple things. Temperature, Color, and one feeling.”

“Comfort.” John said, “... Is when I am cold and something makes me warm.” Using words he understood.

“Good.” The Giver said, “Very good, indeed, John well done.” Alex felt John’s contentment with the praise. “But it is also more. It is like finding friends. Some people you are more comfortable around than others.”

“Like I am comfortable around Alex but not Thomas?” John questioned.

“Exactly.”

Alex hummed in understanding. “But is that comfort? That is not physical.”

“It is… it is just a different kind of comfort. What you feel when you rest after running, or sit with John whose keeping you warm is comfort.”

They nodded.

“So because you showed us comfort it is easier for me to break the rule.” Alex paused, “The touching rule. I feel… better now. Like I  _ should _ be around John. I  _ want _ to be around John.”

The giver smiled.

“Yes that is a form of comfort, but it is also something else.”

“When do we learn it?” Alex whispered excitedly, slipping back to face John. They got  _ comfortable  _ in the chair, curling up as if it were a small bed.

“Soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took 27 years. I am so sorry. Have some cuddling boys to make up for it. <3


	4. The Stirrings

_ It was dark, so dark, so utterly consuming. Alex couldn't see his hands, or any part of his body, just the darkness. It felt full, like ink… but lighter. He couldn't breathe. _

_ He tried to breathe. _

_ It just  _ **_burns_ ** _. _

_ Something thick filled his lungs, something other than air. It made him tired. He didn't understand, he just hurt in a way he couldn't describe. Why couldn't he breath, why did the air feel so heavy and he so light. _

_ He wasn't standing, his feet weren't flat and his arms were moving- less and less by the second. They were keeping him suspended- like the birds in the air the Giver had taught him. They had wings to keep them floating. _

_ Alex didn't have wings... _

_ Alex wasn't in air, he was sure of that now. _

_ It was getting darker. He wasn't aware ink could get darker, but it can and it did and now he was lost and his arms stopped moving. _

_ His mind was crying and his body burned, something was making his skin cold- something that wasn't physical. This was something strong, a feeling of discomfort  _ **_amplified_ ** _ way past his limits, making his heart beat fast and his skin shiver. _

_ He was falling now. His wings were failing him- _

  
  
  


“Hah!” Alexander sat up, promptly smacking his head on a bookshelf.

The pain flaring in his skull was nothing compared to the  _ ecstasy _ \- that was a fun word, Alex had learned all by himself, and he was so excited to feel it sometime- of taking in a lung full of air.

He barely registered the thump next to him and a soft sob of relief as John's eyes fell open and his body stopped shaking.

Alex grabbed the bookshelf, legs still shivering too much to stand on his own, gulping down the air around him greedily. He couldn't get enough.

The Giver tilted his head beside him.

Alex's gazed turned to him, suddenly aware of John clutching the man's side, body vibrating and face hidden in the Giver's sweater.

“W-wha- why-? What- what was that?!” Alex's voice raised, and instantly shrunk, another quaff of air spilling into his lungs. He gave up on trying to stand, slipping onto the sleek white marble below him. It was cool. The ink had been cold too, freezing him to stillness. Stealing his air.

He focused on the floor. He recently learned (with the addition of a new color, yellow) that the floor was just white. Plain white. When he first started receiving colors, he assumed all white, black, and gray would leave his senses forever. He was surprised to find himself wrong.

“I am truly sorry.” The Giver's voice gave way to actual  _ sympathy _ , that was a word he taught them before this lesson, him and John sitting across from him.

Alex flipped forward, blinking back the tears in his eyes and latching onto John's leg. Over the course of this week, this very stressful, new, week, and especially after the lesson on comfort, Alex has found it much easier to break the touch rule. In fact he soon found it incredibly difficult  _ not _ to.

John responded quickly, seizing his arms and pulling him into his lap so their legs tangled and their arms wrapped around each other. John's soft hiccups lost in Alex's hair.

“Giver-” Alex bit his lip, frustrated.

The Giver's raised a palm, then another, taking a hand from each of them. Alex flinched at first, relaxing into the grip after a second. The giver braced their hands in his palm, feeling their pulse and calming them down. A small feeling of content surrounded the group, flowing from ones blood to another, circulating from the heart. It has the same misty feeling of a memory like reality was slipping into fantasy and they were suspended between the two. 

John peeked from behind Alex's hair. “This memory,” The Giver's voice old a scratched, “Should be different for everyone.”

John's face contorted. Alex's mimicked.

“Here…” the Giver pulled two books off the shelf, one yellow and one  _ orange-ish _ , orange was a color  _ made _ from red and yellow, and he placed them in front of the boys. “Point to the one that's more appealing.”

Alex pointed to the orange one, and John to the yellow. John's head shot up, gazing at Alex curiously.

“Did I… pick the wrong one?”

“No. This is what I am explaining. You have something called a  _ preference _ . Look that up.” The Giver opened the orange book. It was a dictionary. “Read.”

John took it forward, “A greater liking for one alternative over another or others.”

“Remember the other day when I told you to show me what you saw?” They nodded, “And John drew a picture, and Alexander used  _ words _ . That is a  _ preference _ .” He whispered these words, gripping their hands. He was shaking, ever since slightly,

“Wait, sir, are you… are you saying you gave me  _ that _ memory because it was…  _ comfortable?” _ The astonishment in his voice was clear, and the giver couldn't help but laugh, and old laugh that sounded wise as it could.

“No, no, Alexander. Let me continue.” A soft pink blush dotted his slightly darker skin, at least darker now that the yellow tinted it as well. He sat down softly, curling next to John. “Because you two are different, what you saw was different too. What I showed you today was  _ fear _ .”

“Fear, An unpleasant feeling triggered by the perception of danger, real or imagined.”

“Thank you, Alexander.”

Alexander and John were already aware of the word danger and what it meant, but being fronted by actually danger was new. The feeling of his life seeming to drain into that inky blackness still strong in Alex's mind.

“I was falling. I was up so high, I can't explain where I was but so much was happening and I felt too tall and I was falling and it didn't  _ stop-” _ John hiccuped again, squeezing his own arms. Alex slid his around John's body, running his hands down his sides.

“John is afraid of heights.”

“Afraid-?”

“Afraid means he fears, heights are what he fears.”

“Oh.”

“And you Alexander, you're afraid of  _ drowning _ .”

  
  
  


The pause, the information sinking in… Alex didn't like it.

“Sir how can I be afraid of… of drowning? I don't even know what that is, sir, how can I find discomfort in it if I have yet to experience-”

“Alex, the mind is far too complicated for you to understand, at least not now. Trust that your body knows and your mind reacts accordingly.”

Alex huffed, feeling John rub his back to try and calm him. Alex was uneasy, he was  _ not _ content. He wanted to know more.

It wasn't allowed- not really. Everyone was always home at the same time… Even when that boy…  _ persuaded _ him to come out later… so maybe it wasn't  _ all _ bad.

 

Alex was starting to  _ fear _ how much he  _ prefers _ to break the rules than to obey them.

  
  
  
  


“Sir, could we do more… Today… ?” John startled away, something glimmering in those dark pupils. His eyes were the most beautiful colors too. Alex couldn't begin to describe them. But it's the excitement he found between those dark lashes that enticed him.

 

After all, John started breaking the rules first.

 

Speaking of which-

 

“And… I wanted to learn about something else… specifically.”

The Giver raised an eyebrow. He turned to John, whose eyes were still lit with that same glowing desire Alex was wording. Then slowly, and toothy smile replaced his impassivity. “This is excellent, Alexander, truely. This is the fastest a receiver has ever asked to take more memories than the necessary.”

Alex grinned, John nodding next to him, “Me too, sir,” John raised his hand, “I'd get to stay too, sir, correct?”

“Of course John, of course.” He stood, “Excellent…” he muttered.

Both boys linked hands excitedly, squeezing. They watched the Giver point to a small door down by the staircase, asking for a moment. 

Alex stood and helped John up, hands staying connected as they bounded for the door. They shut it when they passed through, not daring to look around the dark, just holding each other close enough to feel their rapid hearts.

“Hey… Alexander.”

“Yes John.”

“What… if I may ask, are you hoping to be taught tonight?” John's fingers trailed up his neck, and Alex's breath hitched unexpectedly. “What was that?” John's whisper was closer. Alex's heart beats faster.

“This is just… a lot of…-”

“Emotion?”

“Yes.” Alex found John's hand, and pushed higher on his neck. “John this is…” That same shallow feeling entered his lungs, his breath heavy  and hard. He flinched.

“Oh! John I don't know-!”

Abruptly he pushed him away, holding his breath and falling to the floor. John made a weird noise, taking a step back.

“This is very not allowed, John.” Alex's voice was high, “And it scares me, John, it scares me because I like it so much…” He took a deep breath.

This was weird. There's probably a word for this, something to describe it. Normally talking to John was so easy.

“I… I like not following the rules. Is there… should I be… why am I… different?” He hiccuped.

“Alex,” John leaned on to the floor, sitting next to him. There was a window that displayed the sun, such pretty colors glowing in a grey sky, turning dark reds and oranges and pinks. John adored it. He made him feel content. Even next to Alex and while he may not know how to aid Alex's pain this time, he could at least share his comfort.

“Can I touch?”

Alex just huffed out a pitiful laugh and fell into John's side.

“I apologize.” Alex snuck is fingers around John's waist, and John held them. “We're just feeling things we aren't supposed to, you understand that right? We aren't supposed to want to touch, John. We aren't supposed to feel comfort... like... this.”

“That's what you're going to ask about… isn't it.”

“Huh?”

“This comfort… like… like  _ pleasure. Like the Stirrings.” _

The Stirrings. Stirrings were similar dreams, almost everyone had them at one point, typically through adolescents. These dreams, however, make the possessor feel pleasure. They are  _ not _ allowed.  _ Very _ not allowed.

 

Very much like this.

  
  
  


_ STIRRINGS MUST BE REPORTED IN ORDER FOR TREATMENT TO TAKE PLACE. _

  
  
  


Alex could almost feel those words breathing down his neck, remembering how scared he was the first time it happened when his words failed him and his body was thrumming with something so nice and so confusing. He cried when he told his parents who had coddled him and told him it was normal, and he would just have to start taking the same medicine as everyone else. It was normal.

But Alexander had a feeling his were not normal.

“I- yeah. I am.”

“Alexander, I think we are very not normal.” John inhaled deeply, squeezing those soft fingers. “And that's a little scary.”

Alex tucked is face against John's neck. “Why do I like this, John. It's just like-”

He cut himself off. But John knew. John  _ always _ knew what he was thinking, and of course, before these memories it was vaguely normal for them to be this close, but now it was  _ complicated _ .

“Like your Stirring?” John forced Alex's face towards his, “Mine too, Alexander.”

Alex's lungs convulsed again. His face was inches away from John's, he could feel the heat of their air mingling between them.

“You… promise me you will not tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, Alex.” Alex nodded, leaning forward slightly. “I never told my parents about my Stirrings.”

Alex's face flushed. “John-”

“They feel so good, Alexander… you…” He pushed his face forward, foreheads touching. “Feel so good.”

He closed his eyes, Alex's heart pumped faster, eyes shutting tight.

This was so familiar…

Their lips touched, and a flash.

A boy with dark skin and curly black hair flooded his vision Momentarily. Then John, and his mouth open and panting, everything was hot, wet, and steaming. His shirt was gone, and so was John's.

He watched his first, and only, Stirring play out right before his eyes, until they opened again.

John's breath came out heavy and hot. Alex shivered, but he wasn't cold.

“Alexander. I  _ never _ took those injections.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheheheheheha

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read the book- don't smite me yet- hear me out. I want to read it and will eventually, but I watched the movie and I highly recommend you do too, this is based off that and the internet research of the book- please let me live.
> 
> You shouldn't have to have read to book or watched the movie to understand, but it'll probably be easier, just as a side note.


End file.
